


Where You Go, I Will Follow

by Clippedwings



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Implied Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, In more ways than one, M/M, Mother Hen Dori, Ori Is A Sweetheart, and then he meets frerin, brothers don't always get along, drinking contests are how dwarves flirt, elf ears are sensitive, frerin didn't die in battle, legolas doesn't fully understand that he's attracted to dwarves, tense relationship between Thorin and Frerin, this started as a dumb joke and look where we are now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-12 09:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3351740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clippedwings/pseuds/Clippedwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A [late] birthday present for my friend Skyler. A fic inspired by the events that led to our beautiful crackship.</p><p>Legolas has spent most of his life learning not to like -or even trust- dwarves. Frerin has spent most of his life having those same feelings towards elves. It's not until a chance meeting that they begin to realize that things are not always as simple as they have believed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Go, I Will Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Frerin survived the Battle of Azanulbizar, but that didn't make things perfect. His relationship with Thorin has always been tense, ever since they were children. It came to a head in a fight between the brothers and Frerin felt the need to leave so he could be on his own for a while. He chose not to take part in his brother's quest to reclaim Erebor, but after he heard it had been successful, the pair began to try to slowly mend their relationship.

It had just started as a drinking game. It wasn’t supposed to become anything more than that. Just a challenge to keep things light between two parties who could barely stand each other during the best of circumstances. And this was the best of circumstances, even if Legolas couldn’t stand up straight and had already bumped his head on three doorways and a chandelier. The hobbit hole was the perfect size for dwarves and hobbits, but was clearly not built with anyone taller in mind. 

Legolas was seriously beginning to think that the invitation to this party had just been sent as a courtesy. A way to make his father feel better about the fact that Thorin would be tramping through his forest again. Thranduil was not particularly pleased with the idea, but he did not want to pay insult to the Elf-friend and so had sent his son along to Bilbo’s party. If the hobbit had really been expecting elves to attend, why had he not held the party somewhere with higher ceilings? Or perhaps even outdoors?

The start of the party had been a bit awkward. He was the only elf amongst rowdy crowd of dwarves and the few hobbits who had been bold enough to accept the invitation. He was faced with questions - mostly from the hobbits - and though he answered what he could, it all made him feel terribly out of place. The dwarves did little to help the situation. A few of them were pleasant to him and sat to talk with him now that their king’s quarrel with his father seemed have been put aside, but the rest of them kept their distance.

He was sitting with two brothers - an eager young dwarf who kept asking him questions and an older, grey haired dwarf who fussed over the younger and was kind enough to fetch Legolas wine and food so the elf wouldn’t have to walk stooped over - when a latecomer finally arrived, greeting Bilbo with a “Mister Biggins?” that was promptly corrected. The older brother Legolas sat with tutted and shook his head. The younger explained in hushed tones to the elf that the straggler was Frerin, brother to Thorin and implied without too much detail that there had been some falling out years ago. Which would explain the awkwardness between the brothers as Thorin greeted him. 

Somehow, Legolas ended up conversing with him and by the time Thorin slipped away with his hobbit to enjoy a few stolen moments, he and Frerin had started trying to out drink each other. Which was where they were now; finishing off the last of a large cask of ale in Bilbo’s kitchen and adamantly insisting that it was doing nothing for either of them.

“Perhaps we should just call it a truce,” Legolas said, watching Frerin drain the last drops of ale from his glass. He had been watching the dwarf all night, studying his features and puzzling over why he felt so compelled to get to know Frerin. He was just a dwarf, after all. Why should he be so curious about a dwarf? And why was it that he was so enraptured by the way the dwarf’s head tipped back as he drank, making his throat visible beneath his short beard. 

Frerin raised a brow at the elf and set his glass back on the table he was leaning against. “A truce? Are you truly so afraid to lose?”

Surely the flush on Legolas’ cheeks was from the alcohol and not from the way this dwarf was smirking at him. “I would not lose to you. It has hardly affected me. I simply don’t wish to drink through all of Master Baggins’ store of ale.”

The dwarf contemplated Legolas for a long moment, then nodded and stuck out his hand. “Truce it is, then. For the sake of the hobbit’s ale.” Confident as he was in his ability to drink the elf under the table, it wasn’t necessarily fair to make the hobbit foot the bill. And Mahal knows his brother would make it into some big argument about how he was irresponsible. 

Legolas glanced at Frerin’s hand and took it, giving it a shake. The dwarf’s thick, callused fingers closed around his own slender hand. He was almost surprised to feel just how warm the dwarf’s touch was. For some reason he had expected a dwarf to be almost cool to the touch like the stone they carved their halls from, but now that he had actually accepted contact with a dwarf, it made sense to him that they should be warm like little forges. 

“I think the ale may have affected me more than I originally thought…” Legolas murmured, his mouth going dry as his gaze returned to Frerin’s face. More specifically, to the dwarf’s lips, which he stared at for a moment before falling to kiss.

Frerin, for his part, barely seemed surprised by this turn of events. He hesitated just a little, then gave in to the elf’s kiss until he finally had to pull away for breath. “I think it may have affected me as well,” he responded. Blaming the ale was a fine excuse. If he needed, he could deny this later. Claim it was just the ale going to his head. However, for the time being, his hands lifted to the front of Legolas’ shirt and grabbed it to hold the elf down so he could kiss him firmly. 

The pair were so caught up in the way their lips were moving together that neither of them heard the soft padding of hobbit feet as Bilbo came into the kitchen to fetch more food and wine for his guests, which he had finally returned to. They would have carried on kissing each other if Bilbo hadn’t cleared his throat after seeing that neither of them would apparently need to be coming up for air anytime soon. 

Legolas broke the kiss, pulling away and whirling around to stare wide eyed at the hobbit like a startled deer. “How long have you been standing there?” he tried to ask calmly. It may have worked if his voice hadn’t come out as a squeak. 

“Long enough,” Bilbo replied, managing to look far less embarrassed than he felt. This was the last thing he had expected when coming to see if there was any food left that hadn’t already been brought out. “I don’t much care what you two do, but I must ask that you not do it in my kitchen. For one thing, it’s a very inconvenient place, and for another, it’s a very visible place and I don’t particularly want to have to calm Thorin if he sees this.”

Frerin tensed a little at that and took a small step back away from Legolas. “Ah, yes… Can’t upset Thorin.” His tone was bitter and he refused to look directly at either the hobbit or the elf. “Don’t you worry about us, Master Baggins. We’ll behave.”

Bilbo frowned a little at them, then stepped past them to retrieve the last of the untouched honey cakes. “Just… If you need to do that, don’t do it in my kitchen,” he said with a firm nod before leaving them to bring the honey cakes to the rest of his guests in the dining room and parlor.

An awkward silence fell over the kitchen after that. Neither Legolas or Frerin seemed completely sure what to do, and neither was completely willing to be the first to speak. 

“I should probably…” Frerin muttered, stepping towards the door. This was uncomfortable and he didn’t want to be here anymore if it was just going to be silence.

Legolas hesitated a second longer, letting Frerin reach the doorway before he finally spoke. “There are other rooms here,” he said. “More… private rooms. We could, if you wanted… We could find one.”

Frerin paused in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder at Legolas. A smirk played across his lips as he raked his gaze over the elf. “I’m afraid I’m not too familiar with the layout of this place.”

“Neither am I,” Legolas confessed, but that didn’t stop him from walking forward and placing his hand on Frerin’s shoulder. “But it can’t be that hard.”

It took them only a minute to find a more suitable room; if the small, dark storage room they found themselves in could really be considered suitable. This time, Legolas knelt to bring himself to the dwarf’s level so he didn’t have to keep bending over. It was easier like that. In the dark, their lips found each other again and they kissed unabashedly. It was almost easier here. They didn’t have to pretend that it was alcohol affecting them or worry about someone walking in on them. What cause would anyone at the party have to go looking though storage rooms unless that had a similar purpose in mind?

After a few minutes, Frerin started kissing down Legolas’ throat. The elf tilted his head back as he did so, baring his throat to the dwarf’s lips. He lifted a hand to stroke the dwarf’s thick hair and pressed his fingers against Frerin’s scalp to encourage him. He never thought he would like the feeling of a beard scratching against his skin so much, but he was finding that he loved it.

Frerin trailed kisses back up Legolas’ neck, over his jaw, and up to his ear. He nipped lightly at the lobe and then kissed the shell of his ear, drawing a little moan from the elf. After doing it again to test to see if he’d get the same reaction - which he did - Frerin smirked. He had heard rumors about elf ears being sensitive, but he hadn’t thought the ones that said they were this kind of sensitive were actually true. 

A good bit of time passed with them kissing in the dark, their hands tangling in each other’s hair. Frerin particularly marveled at the softness of the elf’s hair beneath his fingers. The kissing was finally broken for more than a few moments for breath when Frerin felt like the closet had become far too warm for him to continue wearing his coat. He pulled away and quickly shrugged it off, then started to undo the buttons to Legolas’ coat.

Legolas froze when the dwarf started on his buttons, suddenly frightened that maybe something more was expected of him. That maybe Frerin didn’t understand the significance of going any further than they currently were. He wasn’t prepared for that. His hands found Frerin’s wrists and his slim fingers wrapped around them, squeezing lightly to stop the dwarf. 

“What are you doing?” he asked softly.

The concerned look on Legolas’ face was lost on Frerin in the dark, and he knew that the confused look on his own face would likely be lost on Legolas. “I… It’s getting rather warm in here. I thought you might be more comfortable without your jacket.”

That explanation soothed Legolas’ nerves and he brought the dwarf’s hands back to his buttons to let him remove the jacket. “You know,” he started as the jacket was slipped off of his shoulders and he brought his hands back to Frerin’s shoulders. “It’s hardly fair. You’ve found one of my sensitive spots, and yet I don’t know any of yours.”

Frerin chuckled softly at that and leaned in to kiss the elf again. “You’ll just have to find mine,” he murmured against Legolas’ lips, then kissed him again. “Wouldn’t that be fair, since I had to find yours?”

Legolas considered this for a moment, kissing Frerin’s lips before trailing kisses down his neck. “But is it really fair to you that I get spoiled like this and you don’t?” he asked.

Frerin rolled his eyes at that and carded his hand through Legolas’ hair. He was still a little amazed at just how soft the elf’s hair was. “You’re just trying to get me to tell.”

Legolas hummed softly and kissed up Frerin’s neck to his ear. If the dwarf was going to be unhelpful, he would attempt to figure it out on his own. But trying to figure out where a dwarf might be sensitive was a daunting task. They did not seem like they would be sensitive much of anywhere that didn’t necessitate the removal of more clothes.

Frerin seemed to take pity on the elf and gave in after a few more minutes of attention. “You’re close,” he murmured, turning his head to kiss Legolas again. “Just behind my ear. Here.” He pushed his own hair back and pointed out the little sensitive spot with a finger. He should have known better, but it was still a bit of a surprise when Legolas leaned in and kissed in there. It sent a little shiver of pleasure down his spine and he pulled back just enough to capture Legolas’ lips in a passionate kiss.

Legolas’ hands tangled in Frerin’s hair as they kissed, his thumbs rubbing gently over the skin just behind the dwarf’s ears. He enjoyed the reaction it got out of Frerin. The way the dwarf moaned softly into his mouth as they kissed. Even better, it prompted him to toy with the elf’s sensitive ears. They were lost in the moment; in the warmth of the little room, the tangling of their tongues, and each other’s teasing touches. 

It was easy for them to lose track of time. Legolas wasn’t quite sure how long he was on his knees and kissing the dwarf in the dark. What he did know was that they would have stayed like that a while longer if the door hadn’t been opened.


End file.
